


Bowery Nights

by too_much_in_the_sun



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: M/M, Timeline Shenanigans, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_much_in_the_sun/pseuds/too_much_in_the_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"young booker from one timeline bangin' older booker from another timeline"</p><p>A man's got to pay his debts somehow. Kinkmeme fill / deanon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowery Nights

Booker didn't usually frequent places like Paresis Hall, but work was slow and his creditors were starting to lose their patience. So he hung around outside on the sidewalk, doing his best to look inviting.

Trouble was, most men in that general neighborhood were usually interested only in getting inside the Hall, not in anyone working outside. They passed him by with their eyes on the ground, hurrying through the doors like they were about to miss a train instead of on their way into a whorehouse.

He was about to give up and try his luck inside when some inconsiderate son-of-a-bitch walked right into him, knocking him off balance. Twenty years of time spent in New York-the Army-the Pinkertons-back in New York took over and put a string of inventive curses on his lips before being halted when he saw the guy's face. He actually looked a little sorry for nearly knocking Booker on his ass, and he muttered an apology under his breath.

Booker sized him up in a glance: muscled, tan, clothes that had seen better days, a kind of military look in his stance -- not the kind of guy who'd be caught dead near Paresis Hall. He could be some railroad magnate slumming it in the Bowery for a night, but that crowd wouldn't even hit the town for another few hours.

Maybe it was worth the chance. 

"You looking for a good time tonight?" Booker said, lowering his lashes a little. 

"Kid, if I was looking for a fairy, I'd already be inside." He didn't sound angry, just -- tired. 

"Then I guess it's your lucky night. 'Cause I ain't no fairy." Tried to soften it with a smile, but it probably just looked like he was baring his teeth.

He looked Booker over, long and slow. "Fine. Let's see what you have to offer."

After that it got weird. 

Most guys wanted him to suck them or let them take him. This one kind of stood there for a minute after Booker locked the door, then awkwardly proposed something different.

"That ain't what I want." He rubbed the back of his neck, crossed his arms. "I want-- I want you to fuck me."

Then it goes like this, like a magic lantern show:

The older man taking off his pants, freeing an impressive prick already half-hard;

The older man sprawled face-down on the bed, groaning quietly as Booker does what he can to prepare him without hurting him;

His eyes squeezed shut as he rocks back onto Booker's cock, biting down on the side of his hand to stifle his moans;

The startled whine when Booker knots his hand in his unkempt hair and leans in to growl "Come for me" in his ear--

Then it's over and Booker is cleaning himself up as his strange customer pulls himself up into a sitting position, his eyes still glazed and his face running with moisture. 

He avoids staring as the older man angrily scrubs the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand, but lifts his gaze when he rasps out a question.

"You didn't give me your name, did you, kid?" The back of his right hand is scarred, two old ones that look like letters and a new one, shapeless.

"No, I didn't," he answers. "I'm Booker DeWitt."

He looks back with this expression like someone caught him across the back of the skull with a brick, then lets out a breath and says, "I'm Zachary Comstock." 

Booker frowns. The name is familiar. "Have we met before?"

Comstock just looks straight back at him. "Yeah," he says. "I guess you could say we have."

**Author's Note:**

> Paresis Hall was real, and was located at 32 Cooper Square (about a mile from Booker's office). It was also called Columbia Hall, but using that name seemed like a bit much.
> 
> I owe some of the historical detail to George Chauncey's Gay New York. (What do you mean, "I should really just relax, it's only a kinkmeme fill?") 
> 
> There will be more, but I don't know if I want to post as a series or as a chaptered document just yet.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
